Balls and Birdhouses

Posted on May 3, 2005 by Sara Hickman. | 1 Comment

I just finished decorating another birdhouse to be auctioned off. Green with yellow trim painted on the edges and completely covered in glass marbles…around the edges are circular brass letters that spell out “LIFE FLIES BY”…I think I am going to have to keep a stash of birdhouses handy. I’m becoming a regular little company…goodness.

I am having one of those days where my desk and my life and my music and my art are swallowing me up whole and spitting me out, like I’m old, sour grapefruit. I look down at the book my assistant keeps with calls to return and I look at the emails in my account (572 today) and I see the pile of letters to respond to and I realize I need to start with beef stroganoff or write in my blog. So, I’ll put all the responsibilites aside, for a moment, and write…writing seems to help me feel connected. Then, I’ll cook for the family. That makes me smile and relax, too.

Today was one of those days where I was prepared, but things were going astray. I went to Kinder round-up with all the necessary forms, got there 1/2 hour too early, so went on to io’s school to drop her off, returned for more Kinder-roundup and realized io could have stayed and participated with all these other little kids, visiting the kindegarten rooms! Oh, my heart sank. I mean, I knew she was happy in her classroom, settled in and playing with friends by that time, but she was missing an opportunity to check out her new school and hang with new friends. I felt bad. After I felt bad, I tried to massage my heart back into a “you’re ok!” kinda mood. Still, I felt I let io down somehow. Filled out all the paperwork and turned it in.

Then, I rushed home, taped a note to the front door, hopped in the shower with three minutes to spare…and waited. Waited, waited. Took the note down and recycled it (we recycle everything…a need another me just for all the recycling we do!) Made coffee (decaffeinated, of course.) Eddy showed up with his keyboards, right on time. My bassist was late. My drummer couldn’t come at all. Rehearsals are starting for the new record, and time is tight. So every rehearsal counts. I felt slightly let down.

I tell you, how many records have I produced, and still…a comment was made about one of the other players (who is a fine producer, yes, so very true)…a comment insinuating that that player must be producing and I got miffed. I have been working out details for this recording for months now, and it is frustrating to feel like an idiot. I had to state that I was producing the recording, and it just brought me down.
I know, you think I am sounding whiney. But, I tell you, it is all this subtle comments that make a person feel
run down. People will say things to me like, “Gosh! You’re not as fat as I heard you were!” or “Wow! You can really play the guitar..I had no idea!” or “Is that an old song? How old is it?” or “Don’t play new songs…let’s hear your old songs!” or “You need to sing country music!” or “Why don’t you call me back?”, all very simple comments, to be sure, but when you hear these sort of things over and over and they become these warped mantras, you have to choose to be zen about it. 92 % of the time I laugh, or smile, or try to brush it off with humor, but sometimes, I tell you, I just get mad.

It reminds me of the time I got mad standing in line to see “Schindler’s List”. I think I’ve written about this in the blog, so forgive me….but, anyway, while waiting to see the film, we were talking about who the most tortured group of humans throughout history have been…this young friend was with us who was born with -out three of his limbs, and he wore multiple prosthetics. He stated that the crippled, the deformed, those with defects were the most ostracized, criticized, belittled and tortured throughout all of time. I agreed with him, first out of shock and the reality of what he was saying, which was, by every account, true, but then I felt that rush of anger…not towards him, mind you, but this universal sort of anger that came rushing out of me and I interrupted him and said, “No, no! No… it has been women.” And he looked shocked, too. We were silent. We realized that, really, it couldn’t be refuted. Women and girls are constantly dehumanized, on so many levels. Even as I write this.

And so, when I hear People of Color talk about how they are constantly dealing with racism, I get it.
When I hear Native Peoples talk about how their land was stolen from them and their cultures defiled, I get it.
When I hear about Christians (or Catholics or Jews…)being thrown into cells and tortured for their beliefs, I get it.
When I see women in burquas, eyes longing to be free…I get it.

I get it because women belong to all these groups and they want to shine. They want to shine simply by being allowed to be who they are and being allowed to bring their knowledge and wisdom out into the open, from their secret ways, so that the world can be a better place. But because we have the ability to create life, which, in essence, is constant (whether actual people or ideas, we are creating something living)…we seem to threaten some people at the most basic level…

Ok. I’m ranting. I’m sure no one wants to hear this ranting in my mind.

I will move on to the stroganoff and embracing of my children and shake this heaviness from my heart.

I will continue to not be perfect, but be the best I can be in the minute at hand. Continue this journey…right now, to the kitchen…ha!

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One response to “Balls and Birdhouses”

  1. Curtis says:

    The risk of having so many positive things in orbit around you, is that they can frequently collide and throw the whole thing off balance. Still, as a long-time fan of your music, it gives me peace of mind that we share some of the same anxieties, as well as joys. Be well and take care of yourself as well as those around you smile

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